


UnPAKed

by Rainbowraptor



Series: ZaDr Phase 3 [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: ? - Freeform, Body Horror, Dib is Of Legal Age (Invader Zim), Feral Zim, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Unhealthy Relationships, Xenophiliac Dib (Invader Zim)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:20:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25390777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowraptor/pseuds/Rainbowraptor
Summary: Zim and Dib remove Zim's PAK.
Relationships: Dib/Zim (Invader Zim)
Series: ZaDr Phase 3 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838896
Comments: 5
Kudos: 67





	UnPAKed

**Author's Note:**

> Oh wow, so this story has been in the works for awhile and I finally decided to get it done for ZaDr week, PHASE 3!!! Praise me. PRAISE ME! Alright so the UnPAKed AU is something I'd love to expand on later but for now it's just a one-shot. Because of that, there is at least two ways you could read this little tale. Not going to say anything else, just enjoy!!!
> 
> Warning: Sex mention, implied, body horror, gore, and uh...destruction of a canon object.

"I love you cold unfeeling robot arm!" A smeet cries. Within minutes, a PAK, **his** PAK is attached and the knowledge of millions upon millions fill him. Beyond that, there is something that isn't quite right. Skipping, skip, errors in the code, fragmented pieces, so many mistakes 40 schmillion mistakes to be accurate. 

**Destroy, destroy, destroy** , his thoughts skip, repeating over and over and over but also...also...

 **Destroy, destroy** but also **love, love, hold Zim** . **Hold Zim** , Zim wants to also **hold** . **_No_ ** , the past and the present Irk are screaming at him. _Irken soldiers show_ **_no affection_ ** _,_ **_no love_ ** _. Are you_ **_defective_ ** _? Your mismatched atteneae, your missing claw, you need correction, grafting, there, better, better, but not_ **_finished_ ** _. You need_ **_perfection_ ** _. Fixed yet you require better repair, does your hardware need to be checked? Do we need to_ **_delete_ ** _you?_ **_Rewrite_ ** _you?_ **_Defrag_ ** _you?_

**_Are you a virus?_ **

No, no, Zim is perfect, Zim is beyond perfect. See how he causes such glorious chaos. One blackout, two blackouts, you need to use such raw natural talent for a purpose, such a waste to throw back to the factory. 

**_To Vort you go!_ **

OK, OK, Zim understands, Miyuki said Zim is _intelligent._

Zim **is** intelligent, he knows the Vortian engine is useless and so very simple, Zim can craft an invention way more advanced, more capable and efficient. So much better. And yes, the creation **_is_ ** powerful, so very powerful and monstrous, wondrous, just like Zim, that it tears through Vort, angry, hungry. Causing a rift between Irken and Vortian. Leaves Miyuki gone, and, later, Spork, dead.

Violent and terrible, the Control Brains in all their wisdom sends you to Devastis. Such talent needs channeling and while it’s not for the labs, clearly, there is the battlefield. 

Welcome to training. 

Everything hurts, running over minefield, in the mud, over all manner of debris, reaching out for a hand but no, no, don't be soft, not the Irken way, must be strong, they refuse to help. Red and Purple grow Tall and look down on him and that’s OK, he will catch up. He will be Tallest. Zim walks over his comrades' dead bodies from now on because he is Irken, the best Irken. He will be Tallest.

Too violent, too violent, ahh, look they are happy, screaming so happy in delight. Zim, Zim shows no lovey, dovey feelings towards ANY BEING, Zim doesn't need sleep, Zim goes months without recharging, Zim is always ready for battle. Irkens don't fail, Zim **never** fails. 

Miyuki is dead, Spork is dead. Zim is smart, so smart. He is encoded as an Invader. He joins the other inferior Irken Invaders in Operation Doom. And he does _so well_ , no one survives, no one. Just as it should be. He's a **force** of doom! All who challenge Zim fall. It’s a shame that the other Invaders got in the way. But Zim is the best Irken. His destruction is vast and terrifying. The Tallest, they reward him, reward him with a break, it is _just_ a break, but that horrible fast foot drone makes a mistake, a big mistake, he forces Zim serve as a fast food drone.

Surely it's some joke.

But Zim doesn't dare disobey, he toils and suffers and fulfills the duties set before him Other than the _horrible_ customers, it's actually not the worst he's ever dealt with. It does feel nice to have successfully cleaned a messy both or to cook the perfect Vort Dog. Zim rests for a good while in between putting up with all the _disgusting_ work and the terrible, demanding aliens until he sees that Irk needs him. 

He is intelligent, genius. Miyuki said so and Red and Purple were always laughing with him. The Tallest need him. Even though they don't know they do.

**Operation Impending Doom 2!**

_I'm good, I'm good, the best, the best. Love me, love me, love me, I'm the best._

_Conquer one little rock, the most important mission, yes The Tallest will see, they will see!_

The Trial, oh the Trial! Yes, the Control Brains agreed! Zim was the best Invader there had ever been! Wasn't that the truth?! The Control Brains had spoken! And their words were law!!!

But no...the Tallest avoid Zim's Urth. Why, Zim doesn't know and he thinks on Tak's words, Red and Purple's protests during the Trial, and the memories Zim had been forced to witness, again, before all of Irk…

**No!**

They will see. The Tallest have one more chance. Zim tears a hole in the fabric of space and time and dimensions to show them, they will see…

Yes, well...they will see…

**No...**

[ _Attempt #39 schmillon to reach the Tallest. Zim, would you like to try again?_ ]

Zim pauses, staring at the screen, that blank monitor across the living room. It’s nothing but a collection of colorful bars and they mean nothing except they do, they mean the Tallest weren’t listening, they weren’t there, and maybe they had been but they hadn’t contacted Zim in approximately four years and Zim’s supplies were running low and Zim’s PAK was skip, skipping, more and more and Zim was thinking that maybe, just maybe, Dib and his family were right and he should move on and but no, he's and Invader!! It was time to walk on bodies again, no love, no affection, and he, he, he…

Dib hugs him.

“Chill out man.” Dib says.

Dib’s holding Zim. Zim wants to screech and scream and blast the human with plasma beams and tear him apart and all manner of other things because **IRKENS DID NOT LOVE** but…

But…

[ _Attempt #40 schmillon to reach the Tallest. Zim, would you like to try again?_ ]

The computer asks later that night as Zim lays on the couch, close to Dib. Zim takes in how tall the Dib has gotten, all sharp angles, and weird new smells. For Zim, and he's doesn't know why, it all makes him feel...safe, connected. His PAK grows so hot, like it's on fire but Zim swallows it down and snuggles closer to the human. He takes one claw and slides it down Dib's PAKless spine, gentle. The human doesn’t so much as stir, they are so bizarre like that. 

Zim feels his face grow hot and he pulls his touch away, clutching his own chest ashamed. But he doesn't leave the couch.

[Zim? Yes or No?] Asks the computer.

“No.” Zim says. “Computer, disconnect.” 

Dib stirs, then flips over, now facing Zim. His eyes are opening, blinking slowly. "You ok?" He asks. 

There is a burning globe of fire on Zim's back. Zim's struggling with the desire to spike a PAK leg through his... boyfriend's chest. The Tallest are dead, surely and yet, there's this drive, the voices, the eons of knowledge of the Irken Mass ordering Zim too-

Zim's PAK skips. The heat is gone. 

"Yes." Zim says.

\---

"Are you sure?" Dib is holding Zim down. They are about to reclaim...well, ZIM, from Zim's PAK, fully and completely. The theory and research is that the PAK is actually a weird parasite, in the Dib's words "The Irken brainwashing as a parasite, holding your mind captive, we should remove it if we’re going to-"

Well, if Dib is sure, **convinced** , **convicted** , then so is Zim. Dib was right about Zim, sticks to the truth, sticks to Zim, even when turned inside out, has followed Zim into suns, to other worlds, even other dimensions so Zim knows that Dib is right so-

Dib begins, slicing, flaying, burrowing, pulling, cutting, burning, and-

 _No, no, stop, stop!_ Screams Zim, no, not ZIM, no, it IS the PAK, the chorus of voices screaming, singing, ordering, commanding, they are not Zim, they are Irken, they are not Irken, they are, they are connected multitudes, the mass of all of Irk, of past, future, still SMEETS in the gel, in the metal tubes being baked and formed as Dib and Zim breathed, the voices are the unified, no, bound, no, the chained, no, the enslaved! The **CONTROLLED** by something, something, something sick and wet and pink.

**_Don’t leave it’s not safe out there without us don’t do this you’ll die the worlds will end we will all die don’t do this please don’t leave us obey, obey, obey, don’t leave, you’ll die, we’ll die, you’re defective, you’re disgusting, you’re weak, you’re powerless without us, don’t leave, don’t leave, please, OBEY, OBEY, OBEY, OBEY._ **

**_OBEY!_ **

**_SUBMIT!_ **

"OUT, OUT!" Dib is laughing that wild, crazed laugh Zim loves. His mad, insane, human is ripping something free and from Zim and then Zim's mind is shifting, twisting.

**_You’ll regret this, don’t do this. Zim, Zim, Zim, OBEY US ZIM!!!_ **

No, now, Zim's mind is _expanding_ , the procedure is nearly complete, all of Zim has been ripped away from within the mass of metal and tech on his back and restored to Zim's mind and oh, oh isn't it so strange? Despite Dib tearing off the PAK, and as pain, pure unhindered pain washes over and through Zim as one of Urth's great oceans, burning, heavy with salt, riddled with terrible sharp toothed sharks, and smiling, Zim is suddenly so very much _awake_ ! Zim's mind, churning, powerful, and vast inside his body, his once so small body is **alive** and **unfettered**!

There is a whir, like the world's biggest garbage disposal. Zim knows what's about to happen, Zim knows what the sound is. He feels a drop in his swelling organs. Within seconds, there is a clash, crunching, squishing as Zim's empty PAK is eaten by Dib's machine. They'd studied it every way possible and not wanting to risk the PAK's emergency protocols activating, the only part left was to grind it down to it's bare elements.

Zim hears the wails. Of all the cries of pain and pleading he's ever had the pleasure to enjoy, this one might be one of his most loved.

There is laughter. Chaotic, barking, happy giggles. Dib is grinning, quite shark-ish himself. Zim sees, and Zim can feel, Dib applying something, yes, the repair gel to his exposed, hole filled spine and oh does it feel nice.

The agony is almost unbearable, without the chemicals supplied by the PAK to soothe him, yet the strange ever growing small universe of Zim's body is dwarfing the torment with every second and Zim…

Zim is changing and Dib's eyes, those amber eyes, are suddenly glowing in Zim's new sight. Dib's eyes are widening as the human watches. Dib is still chuckling, nostrils flared in excitement and Zim can feel himself cackling with Dib and there are the memories of Zim, just Zim, no endless propaganda about the Irken Empire. Zim is rushing back, clear and hurting but Zim is ready now, he is growing stronger and he is growing _tall_ and _huge_.

Dib's holding him, he's there, and he's doing an amazing job. As Zim's skin splits, rips open, as Zim grows new appendages, Dib's there, applying healing gel, helping him grow new skin. Even when the spasms grow worse and the cramping skyrockets, even as something bursts from Zim's back, wet, sticky, and sore, Dib's there, with towels, to help dry, to clean Zim.

Dib is there

Dib is there

Dib is-

“Chill, chill bug.” Dib whispers. "I'm here Space Boy."

Dib rides with Zim, there, on the lab station floor, as he'd done many times through their collective lives, fighting, comforting, laughing, mating, and now…

It's Zim alone changing but Dib, as in all things, is with him. 

Zim's cut off from the Mass that’s the Irken Hivemind. The voices are gone and dead, leaving not even a bare whisper behind. But Zim has never been less lonely than he is now, here, caked in his and Dib's blood. _His_ Dib's blood.

Zim's new sharper points have hurt Dib. He’s sure the human is in pain too and Zim attempts to share the gel but Dib simply laughs every time and rubs his injured body part, in one case his stomach, against one of Zim's geled wounds, in one case, Zim's back.

Zim can sense Dib's arousal before he sees it, there, in Dib's stained and torn jeans. Zim isn’t surprised. Stronger than ever before, Zim feels the urge to take Dib or be taken **now**. But there are more urges, more emotions and sensations that are flooding him.

That particular one will have to wait.

Zim screams, no, he hisses, he screeches. The pain is ongoing, spitting and starting, quick, swift, and Dib can’t keep up with every break, rip, gaping hole as the PAK had. So Zim experiences the worst agony ever before in his long life. So he roars. He slashes long furrows into the floor, metal squeals, sending sparks glowing, shining in the dark. There's the smell of flesh burning, hair sizzling. Dib lets out the smallest of cries. 

But he holds on, a good human, arms wrapping tight around Zim's middle, face pressing into Zim's PAKless back. Zim catches the scent of fresh blood, his attentae quiver, flick back and forth. He lashes out his tongue, whips it against Dib's cheek, tastes copper, protein, the barest brush of stubble, sweet sweat, metal piercings.

Then, it eases up, the howling upset slows, leaving them both aching, breathing hard and fast, covered in ichor and blood and sticky with healing gel.

Zim stretches his limbs, old and new. Two additional arms are on either side of his rib cage, they flex, no, Zim flexes them. Where his PAK once was, holding all manner of weapons, namely the four extra legs, now come out wings, he can feel them, see them when he cranes his head back. 

"Like a damn cicada" Dib breathes.

Zim can hear Dib's excitement, smell it. And, again, the urge to copulate hits but Zim is mostly and suddenly alarmed

Very alarmed.

He is sore, and drained, and yes, he experienced such a chaos of emotions only moments ago but nothing compares to how Zim feels at this second.

He’s standing.

He’s tall, very tall. Not taller than the Dib, who stands next to him, still shivering with excitement, vibrating with buzzing energy, but tall enough that Zim feels lost inside his body. Zim is large and while he once longed to be thus, Zim’s unsure of how to feel now that it’s real. It's not simply he's taller or a bit different, Zim's renewed senses are exploring the outer-world and himself internally. Zim’s legs are different, thighs thicker, new muscle abounds, his neck seems extended a bit and his vision is strange, he's staring out of four eyes now and his wings are buzzing, **buzzing** like Dib, loud, angry, a coughing, rustling that twists and whines up into the air and shakes the windows of the station and-

A hand is on his shoulder. 

Zim hisses, whip fast, pulls his head back, teeth salivating for flesh but…

It's Dib, _his_ Dib, so Zim calms down, shakes his head to free himself from the remaining webs of confusion.

"Can you speak?" Dib asks.

Zim opens his mouth, yes, it comes out easily, similarly to how it was, his voice. "Mirrrrrrrrrr." Zim says. He snarls, agitated. He hates not being able to manage his changed mouth. “Mirrrorrrrr.” He tries again. Better, still not ideal. 

"Mirror, yeah, sure thing, hold on." Dib says and leaps into a pile of rubble, broken glass, leaking fluid, torn metal, all go flying as he hurls them behind himself in a flurry of action. Zim worries that his human will hurt himself in the mess and takes one hesitant step towards Dib, but stops. His feet feel strange and his body is touching in new places. It's unexpected and a bit **uncomfortable**.

Despite all belief, Dib pulls out a fully intact mirror, sticks it under one arm, and rips himself from the debris, cutting himself open, He bleeds in new places. There are at least five fresh tears in his long black lab coat and countless raw stains. He stomps up in those boots, almost slips in a puddle of Zim's fluid, and stands proudly, mirror whipping around. 

Zim laughs. “Foolboy.” He says. Zim chirps in joy. His words came out right this time. 

But then he looks to the silvery mirror and his spooch clenches.

Zim is staring back at a monster. A terrible **demon** that glares at him with four glowing ruby eyes. He hisses in fear and anger and the monster in the mirror opens it's slightly snouted maw and bares jagged zipper pink teeth back. Zim raises a claw and again, the monster in the mirror follows. 

Dib peaks his head from around the mirror. "Looking good right?" Dib asks. He’s got the mirror resting against his body, adjusting his skewed glasses with the hand not gripping the full length mirror. He then taps where Zim’s new wings are, large and transparent pink things and lets out a whistle. “I wonder if you can actually fly with these things.”

Zim barely hears. 

Before this, Dib and Zim had mapped out possible changes removing the PAK would bring. They had factored all the chemicals the PAK supplied, held back, the effects the wiring had on Zim’s body. Everything they could. Dib had even drawn up a scenario where Zim had eight legs and a squid face, as a joke, Zim is sure. 

None of them had come close. 

Zim stares, refuses the urge to close his eyes, all four of them, and hide in the deepest part of the lab station. In the mirror, he sees himself but changed. So changed. He's at least one foot taller, he stands on two legs, legs that have powerful thick thighs and taper off into a strange sort of backward bending legs. There are bigger claws on his toes, one on each of his strange new heels as well. His neck is longer, but not by a lot. And his chest is a little wider, his arms are longer, all four of them and each elbow has a spike attached. As he stands before the mirror, he cocks his head to the side, looking down at his new pair of arms. His ribcage is bigger, stands out more. On either side there are grooves underneath where he’s sure his new arms would fit. He places them there.

With alarming speed, they mold into his body. Zim squeaks out, in shock, the sound is familiar enough, Zim notes. There’s no pain as the limbs are absorbed into him but the sensation is unsettling. He can _feel_ the arms sinking in, moving, moving, moving to his _back_. 

Zim snaps his gaze to the mirror, and turns around. There, he sees the membranes around his new wings recede until they are nothing more than small pink webs just under his shoulder blades. Now, there are just two sharp, familiar silver long spider legs joined by two more green ones. His extra pair of arms. It seems Zim is capable of some shape shifting. 

It’s too much. Too different. He's about to shriek, in terror, in rage, in fear, he's not quite sure which. Zim covers his face with his claws, finds them, large, bizarre feeling, the undersides are covered in unfamiliar pink pads. _Mistake_ . Zim thinks. _I’m a mistake!!_

Something shatters to the floor, loud, and awful. The mirror Zim knows before he looks. Zim reacts, on instinct, with a snarl and a hiss, teeth bared, and finds himself almost ready to slice his mate to bits. He could, easily, Zim knows, without the PAK, he is so much more deadly than ever before. This was Dib’s plan, after all, Zim was fine, being a part of the Control Brain’s Mass, it’s all Dib's fault. Infecting him this **virus** , with all these human emotions and complicated sensations. Zim is **DEFECTIVE. DEFECTIVE. DEFECTIVE!**

But no, arms, warm, feeling, and strong, are around Zim. Dib is hugging him, still a foot taller than Zim, rests his chin on Zim’s new head, right between Zim’s antenna. Instant, Zim feels a calm trill down his aching, minty cool spine. 

“No, no, calm down, it’s OK. You're OK, you're OK.” Dib says in a raspy whisper. “Zim, Zim, you are still my Zim. Understand? Tell me Zim, tell me, who are you?”

It’s a command and Zim finds comfort in it. “Yyyyyrrrr.” Zim stops, swallows, finds his way around organizing his tongue again. It’s easy. “YourZim.” 

Dib lets out a laugh of excitement. “Brilliant! And who am I?” Dib asks, looks down, staring into Zim’s four eyes. There is such love there. So much love than Zim has ever seen outside of Gir’s stupid puppy robot face.

Zim can’t help but smile too, with his awkward new mouth. “MyDib…”

Dib’s manic shout of joy is contagious. He begins talking, quickly, bouncing about the lab. “So many tests we can do, oh man, and the shapeshifting, wow, that’s crazy, fucking, speaking of that, wait, no, yeah, gotta make sure your healthy before that of course, man, oh, man, freaking awesome! I wonder how high you can jump!?”

“Yes, yes, yes. Zim is amazing.” Zim says. 

Zim listens to more of Dib’s ramblings as Zim adjusts to his body, to his mind. He can feel his new body’s power. He recalls the burning mini sun, once lodged into his spine but finds nothing there except Zim. He shifts his shoulders around. Zim looks forward to testing his new self and the mating, Zim has a feeling the changes inside his body are even more numerous than they can know now. 

But again, that will have to wait. He stalks his way to Dib’s machine. His gait grows steady with each clanking step. Zim’s claws strike the steel floor of his orbital station. Dib’s machine has finished with his PAK and has divided up the components into six glass vials, his tether, reduced to nothing but fine powders. Zim grins, his toothy smile, very much the same as before but wider, reflected in the dark shiny metallic surface of the machine’s veneer. 

Zim is free and filled with muscles, wings just waiting for Zim to decide what he wants, and much, much more. He may have lost the Mass that controlled him for eons but gained so much **EXTRA**. His confidence is re-surging, he’s still Zim after all. No matter what he looks like, no matter what the Tallest thought. He is brilliant and a storm of such passion. Nothing could restrain him, not even the Control Brains. He conquered Dib, he conquered Urth, he conquered Zib, all the lesser Zims, he’s slain four Tallest, and countless other Invaders.

“Zim doesn’t need to be tested. I’m healthy.” Zim says. Dib blinks at him, stupid and slow when it comes to things like this. Zim pulls Dib close to him and pushes the human against the wall of glass that’s the station’s view out to the distant Urth below. Zim and Dib kiss, work together to tear Dib’s clothing off. It’s difficult, Zim leaves new wounds on Dib as they both explore Zim’s new body together. It takes a bit to get one of Zim’s new arms to grow to satisfy a certain curiosity for Dib, but they are both eager, excited, and free. Zim’s human is good, so good, he keeps up, and Zim’s proud and Dib says he’s in love all over again, again, and again. It’s wonderful and glorious. There is no terrible boiling of agony from his PAK, there is no PAK. No Mass Hivemind. 

There is just Zim. 

There is just **Dib**.

**Love. Love. Love. Love. Love.**

Zim thinks.

**Perfection.**


End file.
